Through the crowd, I spot Gale looking back at me with the ghost of a smile. As reapings go, this one at least has a slight entertainment factor. But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favour. Not compared to a lot of the boys. And maybe he’s thinking the same about me because his face darkens and he turns away. “But there are still thousands of slips,” I wish I could whisper to him.
The Hunger Games, Chapter One
(Source: whatsoned, via o-dair)
